Alternates: Versions 1 & 2
by plaguelet
Summary: In Sydney's world, not everything is as it seems, not even death. Two alternate universes in which Danny didn't die.


Title(s): Alternates, Versions 1 & 2

Title(s): Alternates, Versions 1 & 2

By: Elizabeth Ann Lewis, lizbet@rhiannon.dreamhost.com

Show: Alias (Yes, I know, I'm writing fic for a show that's only aired one episode)

Distribution: Usually, nowhere, but since I want to evangelize this new show... this is e-mailware fic. Please post and let me know where. :)

Rating: Ummmm... PG-13, I suppose. Danny gets a bit annoyed and uses foul language in the second story.

Warning: Character Un-death. That is, I fix what they did so grievously (and clichedly) wrong in the pilot.

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Alternates: Version 1

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"It's done?"

"Yes. It's done."

From where he stood he could look out over the Los Angeles basin, from downtown out through West LA, through Westwood to the ocean. If he squinted really hard, he could see the lights of the tankers as they slowly trundled up the California coast, their lights unblinkingly pragmatic. To his left Hollywood glittered in shades of neon desperation, bright enough to change night into day and scare away the monsters.

He'd never come back here. He couldn't. In the words of a thousand spy movies, his cover had been blown, his operation endangered. He had called to be picked up, to get him out before he was taken out.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, the man who a few hours ago had been known as Danny gave a crack of unamused laughter. They'd both been so good at their jobs. So good that neither of them had made the other. Meeting Sydney hadn't been pure chance, of course; Interpol knew that her father was a member of a mercenary league that threatened national security in half a hundred nations. Sydney was unaware, obviously, but being close to her let them be closer to her father.

Except for him. For him, being close to her meant falling in love with her, with her brain and her humor and her energy and -- He close his eyes and took a deep breath, shaking off the memories. Their relationship had started off as a con, and turned into something real. He'd allowed himself to believe that he could just stay the med student at UCLA, feeding the meager information on Sydney's father to his superiors and staying with Sydney and marrying and having babies...

Until she had told him what she knew -- what he knew -- she should never have told him. All the dirty secrets she had. Except he knew more, knew that she had been sucked into the traitorous organization that had devoured her father. Then when she thought she was serving her country, she was betraying it.

The cover had been a comfort then, the ability to released his emotions in the faked freakouts of a normal guy. He could panic and pace and scream and shout, and not reveal his own secrets to her.

He couldn't trust her. That was the bitterest thing to swallow. He couldn't trust her because she trusted her superiors, and they would kill him for knowing too much, let alone for being a representative of the enemy. Which left only one option.

The man who a few hours before had been known as Danny didn't ask where they'd found the body of a young man. Expert makeup techniques rendered the corpse a reasonably facsimile for his own face and body. Danny had made a phone call that he knew would trigger a removal squad. They'd planted the body, bugged the apartment, and watched as Sydney's father had come in to take care of the problem of his daughter's fiance. Instead, he'd found a body dead of suicide, and left.

He clutched his glass, listening as the tinny sound of the door to the apartment opened. Heard Sydney's voice call for him, then stutter to a stop when she saw the destruction 

wreaked on their home. Heard her run through the apartment, until she found the body with his face.

He pressed his forehead to the window and closed his eyes as he heard her scream. "I'm sorry, Sydney," he whispered to the night. "I love you."

"Sir? It's time. The plane is waiting for you."

Slowly, he reached out and shut off the receiver, cutting Sydney off. Then he turned his back on the Los Angeles night and walked away.

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Alternates, Version 2

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Cold. So. Cold.

He was shuddering with a chill that went beyond bone-deep, that was a physical pain that reached inside and shattered him. There was no warmth in the entire world, nothing but the core of ice that lived inside his body. Exhausted with fighting the cold that seemed to be growing inside of him, Danny lapsed into unconsciousness.

When he woke again, the cold had receded enough for him to be able to take in other sensory input. He had a warming pad over his body, and was lying on a bed somewhere. Pain faintly throbbed at his wrists. _Hypothermia_, his brain automatically cataloged. _Possible immersion in a low-temperature body of water. Slowed the body's and the brain's processes. Possible brain damage, but that does not seem to be a problem._

Where am I?

Using extreme force of will, Danny opened his eyes. In a megalithic circle surrounding him were a group of machines, monitoring his brain waves, his body temperature, heartbeat. His wrists were bandaged as though he had suffered rope burns around them. An IV drip fed into his arm. But there were no doctors to be seen, no medical technician checking the machines, watching unless something went wrong. It was eerie to be alone in the midst of it all.

When he woke again, the machines had been largely reduced, although an IV was still attached to his arm. He had just enough strength to focus on the rest of the room. Lit by fluorescent lights, it was small, industrial grey, and still empty of any other person.

Over the next few days, Danny charted his own progress, slipping in and out of unconsciousness, slowly building up his strength. His recovery was done in complete silence, alone in the room.

His internal body clock marked it at two weeks when he felt well enough to get out of bed. Sitting up carefully, he swung his feet to the floor and then waited for the wave of dizziness to pass. He nearly fell on his face when he finally put his weight on his feet, and stayed up mostly by dint of will. Slowly, clutching his bed as much as he could, he made his way across the room to the one door he saw.

It was locked, but that didn't keep him from pounding on it and yelling until he fell into a heap on the floor.

When he woke again, he was in his bed again. But for the first time he wasn't alone. Sydney's father sat in a chair across from him. 

Startled, Danny tried to sit up, but fell back quickly. The sight of another human made this whole bizarre situation far more real. "Where am I? What am I doing here? Where's Sydney?" His voice emerged as a dried-out croak, but the meaning was clear.

Sydney's father just shook his head. "If I told you where you were, it wouldn't do any good. And Sydney..." His voice trailed off. "Sydney thinks you're dead. As well you should be."

"Goddamnit, no--"

"Listen." The word was quiet, but authoritative. "The most important of the three questions you asked is the second one. What you are doing here is recovering from a massive dose of an experimental drug. It lowers the body temperature and heart rate to near-fatal levels, and does an excellent simulation of death, if the subject is not examined too carefully."

"Impossible," Danny said flatly. "Medical science can't manage that. I'm a doctor, I know."

Sydney's father smiled. "Yes, I know. The reason you are in this state of recovery is because I was ordered to kill you. Sydney had told you too much about her covert activities, and her superiors -- **my** superiors -- considered you too dangerous to live. But I thought your death would be a tremendous waste, so..." He shrugged as though a human life was of little consequence.

"Sydney..." Danny whispered.

"Sydney, unfortunately, was missed by my agents at the airport who were instructed to bring her in and inform her of your death. She found your lifeless body herself. Although I would have spared her that, I must say that the word of a grieving fiancee made the staged death go perfectly."

"You son of a bitch," Danny breathed, wishing that he had enough strength to get out of bed and wrap his hands around his to-be father-in-law's neck.

"Am I? I'm not the one who put Sydney's life in danger by babbling to a tapped line. Point of fact, I saved her life -- and saved yours."

Danny lay back, exhausted. "Fine. Wonderful. Yippee. Now what?"

Sydney's father sat back and tapped his fingers against his lips thoughtfully. "Now, of course, we have a bit of a problem. Among other things, you are not a US national, so the situation will have to be handled carefully. Since I assume you would not be interested in using your medical skills in interrogation, all I can offer is a chance to help us in research and development."

"Developing what?" Danny demanded. "Drugs, chemicals, biological weapons? No way."

"You have two choices, Danny boy. Live under my conditions, or die. What, did you think we were going to let you go? Give you a new name, a new face? Please. Too many James Bond movies. No, I went to the trouble of making sure you weren't dead, and I'll use your expertise. Or, I'll kill you. Pick one."

Danny lay in his bed, breathing deeply. He ached at the thought of Sydney finding his body, ached to tell her he was alive, was well -- mostly -- and to just be with her. "What about Sydney?"

"She's withdrawn from her operations and is grieving. But she'll be back someday. They won't let her leave forever."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. Sydney can never know that you're alive. She has to understand the risks that she takes in her profession. And you, my dear boy, are going to do everything possible to keep her safe. Because the first time you step out of line will be her last day on earth. Do you understand?"

His eyes closed, Danny could see the life he'd known disappear. He heard what he was being told. He'd never see his family, his friends, his career, anything he'd spent his life building again, and Sydney would be the hostage for his good behavior. But he refused to believe he would never see her again. As long as he was alive, he'd fight that. He'd find a way, even if it meant learning every devious trick this bastard in front of him knew -- and then just one more, enough to trick him. "I understand. You have a deal."

THE END (If Danny -- either one of the above Dannies -- shuts up and leaves me alone now...)


End file.
